It was a wild, adventure-filled retreat all the way. Dick had little but hard biscuit and raw, salt pork to eat. He marched through villages that were in flames from the fire brands of the British. He saw and was able to give information about a British spy who was condemned and shot. Then the division to which Dick belonged reached Long Island where it was commissioned to land at Huntington. The soldiers were in a common transport, though, without guns, and it was captured by a British man of war. Dick, the little fifer, was marched with his Colonel and officers and the militia, all picked men, into the presence of a British commander.
The little lad must have looked very strange to the Englishman. His shoes were so worn that his feet were on the ground and one could scarcely see the blue of his Continental uniform because of its dust and rags. He was pale from going without food and sleep, but he held his head very proudly and high. Not one of the prisoners was as brave as Dick as he marched into the presence of the enemy beside his Colonel, carrying his fife under his arm.
“Who is this boy?” the British officer demanded, frowning down on the lad. His tent was bristling with swords and crowded with other officers of the King in scarlet broadcloth and gold lace. It was indeed a fearful place for a little boy to be, but Dick answered bravely,
“What can a little bantam cock like you do for the cause of these fighting farmers?” he asked. “I’ll wager you’re of no use and, methinks, only a hindrance to your regiment.”
Dick drew himself up proudly. “I have played the fife for the regiment these many months,” he asserted stoutly, “and they do say there isn’t a man in the army can put as much heart into a tune as I. It might chance I could fight, too, if I were put to it.”
A chorus of laughter from the British officers greeted Dick’s last assertion.
“The little cock thinks he could fight!” they sneered, but the British commander looked sternly at Dick as he spoke to him.
“There is too much of this idle boasting in the farmer army. I would put an end to it.”
He motioned to an English lad, the boatswain’s boy, older and more toughly built than Dick.
“Fight!” the officer commanded. “Let the Yankee fight one of King George’s men!”